


The One That You Want

by Background_Foxe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Caning, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Play, M/M, Sex Toys, Spanking, Sub Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Background_Foxe/pseuds/Background_Foxe
Summary: Dean utilises one of Sam's mistakes on the field as justification for a teaching moment
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	The One That You Want

He couldn’t remember the date they’d started this arrangement. Days often blurred in together, time mostly judged on whatever they were fighting at the time. It wasn’t March, it was vampires, April demons, and so on. But they’d got there somehow, and Dean wasn’t about to change it for the world.

He finished checking the door latch and surveyed the surrounding area critically. It wasn’t the greatest but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the prospect of a dungeon of their own was something that had gnawed at him ever since Sam had come to him with the suggestion. And it was always Sammy’s suggestion; Dean might have ideas of his own, but the risk was too great that Sam would simply undertake whatever it was to make Dean happy. His little brother already too damned good at hiding his own feelings. 

No, for safety it was much better to let the underdog pick his own scenes and then Dean could get a little creative from that. 

A grin curled in the corner of his mouth. It was certainly not a hardship by any means.

The location secure, Dean went through his other preparation rituals. The rings were clean and free hanging, the ropes were tied in their careful quick release format, and the padded bench was freshly cleaned and waiting. He’d considered getting some sort of frame, a cross perhaps, but he’d never quite got around to it and anyway they seemed to end up strapped to something far too often during their day to day work as it was. 

Sam himself was in his usual position, naked and on his knees in the centre of the room, patiently waiting for whatever would emerge that evening. Dean tried not to do their sessions too frequently, once a week, possibly once a fortnight if that. Short enough that neither of them went crazy in the meantime, but long enough that Sam could physically recover and their anticipation could build. Dean found that their sexual sessions were a bit like food; the concept of never-ending ice-cream was always great, but it didn’t take long before you got sick of it and had to add more and more toppings to make it interesting. No way he was risking that with his Sam.

“When did you shower, Sammy?” Dean tossed out casually as he worked. Sam lifted his head a little higher, the silver ring attached to his leather collar glinting in the low light levels as he considered the query.

“About an hour ago. Just after dinner.” he replied. 

Dean gave him a little look, and Sam flushed.

“Sir.” he amended hastily. Dean’s expression hadn’t changed, but he smiled internally. Sometimes Sam was all about the sir and the masters and the three bags full, and sometimes he forgot in his eagerness. There had been a point where Sam had deliberately pushed him, trying to get a rise in order to encourage Dean into the harder and more riskier punishments, but Dean had easily avoided that by changing the method of chastisement. Sam had swiftly moved to Dean’s way of thinking when punishments were not the fun physical ones he was craving but crate-training, sitting and waiting and being forced to be patient. And Winchesters didn’t do patience, it wasn’t in the blood. Poor Sam almost went crazy. To be fair, so did he.

“And what did you do?” he asked idly. He didn’t need to look at him to know the puzzlement in Sam’s expression, he could hear it in his voice.

“Sir?” 

“Why are you here? What did you do to deserve this?” Dean elaborated. Oh, it was all about the context, and they had quickly reached the conclusion that this whole set up - the dungeon, the strictness, the punishments - were much easier when there was some justification behind it, as weak and feeble as it might be. Or at least, weak to Sam. As far as Dean was concerned, Sammy was still his to look after, and if that meant correcting his behaviour in less orthodox manners then that was what happened. The fact that he got off on it might be fucked up, but it was an added bonus that Dean wasn’t sure he could quit right about now.

He glanced at Sam’s expression. Yeah, that was part of it. The lines from years of hunting might now be etched on his brother’s features much more than when Sam was a kid barely out of school but there was still a quiet wistfulness to Sam, as though he was still looking for an answer from the universe. Dean himself had given up on an answer long ago; the world was fucked up, and if you tried to make sense of it you’d just go mad. Or madder, anyway. 

Currently Sam was looking at him with intense eyes, one part hopeful, one part excited and one part nervous, and Dean felt a throb inside him as he studied him. The nervous was getting more than its fair share though, and Sam was clearly struggling to work out an answer to Dean’s posed question.

Dean sighed softly. Well, that was annoying. There had actually been something that he was wanting to correct for a change.

“The interrogation.” he added, helpfully. Sam frowned a little bit, still clearly lost at sea. 

“The point where you talked a little too much and gave them information they really shouldn’t have had?” Dean added. Sam thought about that and gave a slow but uncertain nod. Well, that suggested that had it been anyone else asking this question Sam would have been fighting tooth and nail to defend what he’d done, and for a change that meant that the session might actually have a serious purpose. 

“I am sorry, sir.” 

Bullshit he was sorry, and Dean huffed a small laugh. Sam flushed slightly, aware his viewpoint was known but clearly not wanting to change it. His younger brother stared down at the floor in a prettily submissive gesture, and it would have been adorable had Dean not known it was an avoidance tactic for what was coming. Hmm.

Crossing the space between them, Dean reached down to cup Sam’s face in his hand and lift the startled man’s gaze. They studied each other for a moment, a small spark of defiance in Sam’s eyes that was battling his natural response. Yeah, Sam was a submissive, but submissive didn’t translate into doormat.

“So you don’t think you did anything wrong,” Dean murmured softly. Sam looked uncomfortable.

“I am sorry that I have made you upset, sir.” he mumbled softly, unable to talk properly with the hand on his jaw.

“You’re sorry that you fucked me off but not that you actually did it?” Dean clarified that original statement, a little dangerous tone to the words. Sam winced slightly. And that was still a yes, and that was interesting. Ordinarily Sam would have been the first to find some compromise between their two positions, but here he was standing firm. 

“You put us both at risk,” Dean pointed out softly, and watched the flash of annoyance appear in Sam’s eyes in interest. His brother held his tongue, something he’d been trained to do, but there was no doubt that if the situations were reversed Sam would have a lot to say about that particular evaluation.

“Go on. Say your piece,” he let go of Sam’s jaw and studied him thoughtfully. Sam looked wary.

“I…,” he hesitated. Dean waited for a moment then chuckled.

“C’mon. I’m gonna punish you for the task, not for anything you say now.” he paused. “Well, within reason, anyway. You call me a jerk and your ass is toast.”

Sam still looked wary before pulling a small face. “If I hadn’t told them where we’d be, they’d never have expanded on the other stuff. We needed to give them something else to focus on.”

“And that something was our exact location? You couldn’t have, I don’t know, _lied about it?_ ”

“They’d have found it out and then it would have fucked up the whole interrogation. Only lie where you need to lie.” Sam replied strongly, and he was clearly about to say something more unsavoury when his personal safety valve kicked in and he shut up again. Dean smirked internally. Oh, that would have been some sort of exasperated name, or possibly a criticism on the plan itself. Dean raised both eyebrows and waited for Sam to continue.

“Well. That’s about it. I mean, it _might_ have put us more at risk, but I’d argue it was for a justified reason.” Sam said slowly.

“Uh huh.” Dean gave him a winning smile. Sam scowled automatically, then caught himself and looked down at the floor with a little wince. Yeah, the whole set up would take a while to get through habits that had been honed through years of practise, and brotherly bickering was something they’d both gained full degrees in. 

“So you think that punishing you would be unjustified?” Dean played around with the thought. This was a new thing. Sure, he’d punished Sam on previous occasions for some pretty minor things, but they’d both known that the issue was a full on lie just to give them something to work with. This would be the first issue that had come up where Sam had disagreed with the judgement, and Dean wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. 

“I will do whatever you wish, sir.” Sam dipped his head again.

“Nice cop out.” Dean drawled.

“Not got much choice, sir.” Sam offered him a small smile back, before replacing it with his perfected ‘good little submissive’ expression (™). Dean made a soft noise at the back of his throat. Yeah, might have a point with that. 

“Either way, you listen to me when we’re on a case.” he added, and then raised eyebrows at Sam’s shifty look. _Really?_ Oh, this was more than just an added piece of information. This was actually the chain of authority in question, and how the hell had they got this far without him working that one out? 

Sam, to give him credit, clearly realised that he’d made a serious error and looked momentarily appalled. Also very sensible. This was really not the place to make a point, not least because Dean was fully equipped and raring to go. Their gaze met again, and Dean felt a guilty thrill from the nervous look his sub was giving him. That wasn’t acting, that wasn’t playing, that was genuinely concern and Dean resisted giving him a toothy grin just in case that made Sam even more nervous. 

“Get up,” Dean said lazily. Bambi had nothing on the wide eyed expression that Sam gave him at that, and it was pretty damned adorable. Not adorable enough to save his ass, of course, but awards for trying. 

“Yes, sir.” Sam mumbled and pushed himself up to his feet. Dean allowed himself to enjoy the view; naked other than the collar, Dean’s gaze ran down his brother’s form hungrily. Pretty boy, and damn, had it taken him months to allow himself to think that. Dean strolled over to the equipment box of Kinky Random Shit that he’d gathered along the way and began to root through it, looking for a particular item. Ah.

“Hands behind your back,” Dean kept his voice casual. He never really did understand the dominants who did the full on Dramatic Scary Voice thing; if you had the clout then it didn’t matter whether you looked distinguished or wearing a full on clown outfit. Pennywise could probably agree, although he did spend far too much time lurking in sewers with lost shoes.

Sure enough, Sam knew not to trust the casual voice. It was almost as dangerous as the friendly voice, which was pretty much a harbinger of doom to unwary subs and their fine and soon to be marked asses. At least the hands were placed behind his back pretty quickly, and Dean strolled closer. Was that a faint tremble in Sam’s body? Oh, he hoped so. He really did.

Crouching down, Dean carefully placed the leather strap cock ring around the base of Sam’s penis and fastened the strap. He always much preferred the pull off ones, not least because he could do it at speed rather than messing around with the rubber band. There was also a stripper element that Dean quite liked; perhaps that was a possibility at a later date, Sam kitted up as a stripper and paraded in front of some chosen audience. Castiel would almost certainly find it fascinating.

“That’s better,” he pushed himself up and gave Sam the lightest of kisses to his mouth, brushing their lips together tenderly. Sam’s Bambi impression hadn’t relaxed much and now he had a slightly pitiful look in his eyes. Ordinarily Dean didn’t bother to restrict Sam’s pleasures, allowing him to build and release as he would naturally other than the occasional instruction, but now.. Oh, now he really wanted to have Sam pleading for his orgasm. If he got it at all, of course. Dean hadn’t worked that bit out yet.

There were a few things he still needed to work out, for that matter, and one of them was purely what he was going to do with him. They’d used the rings last time, a drawn out thrashing programme that had made Sam overly excited which was surprising but fun at the same time. And, of course, this felt like a traditional punishment was needed.

Dean’s gaze fell on Sam again thoughtfully and a little critically. Sam’s height and weight was always a consideration to think about; with girls he normally had the upper hand, but his brother was not exactly the manhandable size. Bit of a pity, really. Just meant he’d had to get more inventive to carry out the traditional stuff.

“Bench. Now.” he instructed, slipping his hands in his pockets as he waited. Still, at least Sam was obedient. Took all of a minute for Sam to clear the short distance to the bench and lie across it, his knees placed on the rests and his hands waiting to be fastened within the little restraints, and Dean purred softly to himself as he viewed him.

“Any final words?” he queried as he began to strap Sam’s wrists and ankles to the bench, delicately running a finger between skin and leather strap to ensure they weren’t too tight. Punishments were all very well but he didn’t want to actually stop blood flow. Sam was silent, although he flinched slightly at Dean’s light touch on his back. Flinching? Good god, he really was worried.

“Would you like a gag, Sammy? Something to bite on?” he added cheerfully, and then swatted the rise of Sam’s ass with a hand as the silence continued. “I asked you a question.”

There was another hesitation and finally: “Yes, please.” Pause. Wince. “Sir.”

Well, that was a bit of a surprise - Sam preferred being vocal - but then again if he had a gag in his mouth then he couldn’t possibly answer any questions. Dean grinned. Smart boy, Sammy. Another few moments and he had selected a horse-bit style gag that always made him feel a bit of a cowboy, gently easing it into Sam’s mouth and buckling it up.

“There we go, Sammy. Perhaps at some stage I should get you the saddle to match and see whether you’re rideable. Well,” Dean grin grew wider. “In a way we haven’t tried yet, anyway.”

He had no idea what Sam thought of that idea, but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d seen a few horse-themed scenes when he was online doing some often bewildered porn research, and most of the time those people were restricted by physical size. Sammy actually could carry him on his back, as long as they covered his hands and knees from the roughness of the ground. Add a horse tail butt plug, and they were talking. 

Well, something for another time, or possibly something that he’d look back on tomorrow and file under the ‘What the Fuck Were You Thinking’ line. Who knew. For now, they’d stick to something they’d done already.

Dean gently ran the nails on one hand down Sam’s back, enjoying the soft shiver and a faint murmur from Sam.

“Pretty boy,” he murmured to himself, drawing a little circle on the meat of Sam’s right buttock before giving him another light slap. “And a bad one, at that. So, let’s go through the schedule, shall we? Number one, spanking. Number two, we’ll try out a few of those new dildos I’ve got, working our way up from small to large. Number three, you’ll receive six blows from the cane for your indiscretions and, more to the point, not listening to me when you were supposed to. And number four-,”

Dean lowered himself to murmur closer to Sam’s ear, his hand between Sam’s legs to squeeze his already excited cock and balls firmly.

“-I am going to fuck you so hard you’ll squeak. Does that sound good?” Nothing from Sam, which was pretty much given due to the gag. Dean grinned. “Course it does.”

He’d long gone past caring how fucked up this all sounded. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have mattered who was strapped up on the bench, it was just plain wrong. Now? Now the ritual felt relaxing, their life having muddled up fighting and living so much then it was unsurprising their sex life had followed. Even Castiel seemed to be surprisingly tolerant of the situation, claiming that the acts of thrashing and other punishment activities were at some point a good part of the weirder church interpretations. He’d even offered to provide instruction, which Dean had currently turned him down on, mostly because Sam had been looking uncomfortable. Still, religious instruction on penance? Take me to church, indeed.

For now? Task number one. 

Dean pulled off his shirt and stretched, always happier at least half undressed when they were performing here. The pants he wore could follow later, but for now he wanted to hide his current erection from prying eyes. All business, nothing to see here.

Running his hand over Sam’s ass, he waited until his brother had settled a little bit before raising said hand again and landing the first strike. Ah, the first was always the best; the small little shudder in shock, the way the palm met the smooth cool skin, the little involuntary gasp muffled against the gag. The slap always sounded worse than it actually was, and Dean didn’t bother to wait too long before continuing with the next. And then the next.

A little rhythm of blows soon followed, hard and sharp that covered the entirety of Sam’s ass from the tops of his thighs to the real meat of his backside. Dean paused and then gently smacked Sam’s balls, a small gesture but one that made his brother jump in his restraints with a soft groan. Oh yeah, punishment there was fun and threatening but had to be gentle otherwise he’d have Sam curled up in a ball in a corner before they’d even got to the good bits.

The spanking continued for a good five minutes until Sam’s skin was rosy red and Dean’s hand was aching and stinging from the impact. Sam had given up his silent mode, soft panting and little moans accompanying each blow, and Dean paused every so often to stroke over the abused skin and drift fingers suggestively between Sam’s legs and occasionally run a finger down his crack just to remind him why they were there. The shudder that ran through his brother’s body was a dream to behold, and Dean felt himself throbbing even harder. Sometimes he wondered who was punished more, him or Sam.

Couldn’t carry on with his hand, though. Shaking out a bit of an ache from the personal touch, Dean fished out a small paddle from his bits and pieces box. Paddles were great. Simple, reliable, they made a noise like thunder and really punished the skin without the danger of going too far. A few more strokes with this to add to the already warmed skin and Sam was whimpering against the gag, his head lowered and shifting his body occasionally in a foolish attempt to lessen the blows.

Ah, Sammy. Always the optimist.

And if he was already trying to avoid the stings then he was going to hate the next few steps. Dean grinned to himself and placed the paddle down on a nearby table as he wandered toward the basket of stuff again. Oh yes, the spanking that had left Sam breathless and sprawled on the bench was only the warm up, and there was much to do in the meantime.

A quick rummage in the box obtained a small bottle of lube that proclaimed itself to be both long lasting and the ‘Best EVER!’ in bright multicoloured cartoon writing. There was even a little cartoon unicorn on it, which just raised questions on who the hell they thought would be using it, but that question was probably something to park for another day. Popping the lid, Dean smeared his fingers and then calmly added the liquid between Sam’s cheeks, grinning at the movement as cool liquid met with sore hot skin.

Was that enough? Probably not. The bottle was grabbed and squeezed, adding even more to the extent that some of it was dripping out of him already. Well, always better to have too much than too little, and Dean delighted in the little gasps and noises from Sam at the sensation. 

“So,” Dean announced brightly as Sam was desperately trying to recover his breathing. “Let’s try my new toys, shall we?”

Another little shudder through Sam’s body, but he was still hard as a rock and his legs widened in anticipation. For all his behaviour, Sam could be a very good boy when he wanted to be, and Dean smiled affectionately as he picked up the toys he had recently purchased. Home deliveries were a bastard to organise, but sometimes they were worth it.

First toy was admittedly pretty tame, about the size of three fingers and tapered to comfortably sit within the body. Dean ran it down Sam’s crack, anointing it with the lube, before pressing it against the tight little hole that was just calling to him. Sam had held his breath, his body tense and trembling, and Dean calmly squeezed his brother’s cock again as he slowly, _slowly_ eased the toy into his body.

“Good boy,” he commented as Sam whined pitifully. Such a drama queen, and to think this was only the start. Dean waited until he had settled down before slowly beginning to move the object, watching as Sam’s body slowly accepted the intruder and grinning at the soft moans that his brother was making. Beautiful.

But it was only one out of four, and it wasn’t even that big. Dean gave one last movement and then slowly slipped it from Sam’s body, seeing the little hole close up afterward and reveling in the little noise of loss from his brother. Honestly, he moaned when it was in, moaned when it was out. Couldn’t win, sometimes.

Second toy was larger, about the size of an average dildo Dean reckoned although to be fair he hadn’t really been paying attention. Just slightly smaller than his own dick, with a little flared piece at the end for added spark, and Sam whimpered again as it was slowly inserted. Now this was better, Sam’s hole stretched and his brother clearly straining against the toy.

“Mm. You should see how you look from here. Great view,” Dean commented in pleasure, slowly rotating the toy inside him and noting the little shudder that worked its way through Sam’s form. Still, something wasn’t quite right, and it took him a while to realise that this was probably the gag. He missed being able to talk with him, hear the little noises whether those be nervous or encouraging. Well, that was easy enough to correct. Dean gently smoothed his palm over the smooth lines of Sam’s back, easing him before he slowly unfastened the gag and slowly let it fall away.

“There you go.” he murmured. Sam panted for a few moments, before lifting his head and peering up at Dean through his hair. Dean’s eyes narrowed, uncertain what he wanted but knowing the ‘puppy wants a cookie’ look when he saw it. 

“Whatever it is, you know you’re supposed to be getting punished here, right?” he warned. 

Sam continued his puppy dog look, slowly licking his lips before moving his gaze down to rest on Dean’s crotch and then back again pleadingly.

“Oh.” Dean thought about that, and then grinned. “Awesome. _However_ -,”

Sam drooped, knowing what ‘however’ normally meant.

“‘ we have a schedule, remember? Much as I like impromptu oral, you’re not going to steer it to something you want.” And he was talking himself out of a blowjob. The world was weird, but he had a job to do and Dean was going to see it through. Still, it was one hell of a thought, and Dean ran his hand across Sam’s back again as he made his way back to toys and Sam’s actively used rear. One manipulation of the inserted toy later and Dean had confirmed that the removal of the gag had definitely been a good idea. The whimper from Sam was so erotically charged Dean was impressed the bench hadn’t set itself on fire yet.

Moving on.

The third was larger again, but the type of bigger that didn’t really look that impressive visually until it was inserted into a tight space where the extra size made a world of difference. It was a slightly different style, having a few more ridges, still slightly tapered to aid insertion, and for some goddamn reason bright green, and Sam made a keening type of noise as Dean slowly pushed it in further.

“Shhhh,” he said softly. “Steady.”

Sam was clearly not in a steadying mood, his breathing more uneven as he whimpered against the violation. 

“Stings,” he whimpered, and Dean slowed things down a bit, frowning in concentration as one hand rested on the small of Sam’s back whilst the other slowly eased it in. Sometimes this felt like a really odd version of Operation, but that was okay; the prizes on offer were much better than simple winners bragging rights.

And it was in. Dean allowed a few moments for his brother to rest up and smirked slightly at Sam’s little shiver. There had been no further comments and Dean was pleased to see Sam’s tense body slowly relax in a relatively short time. Ah, that was his good Sammy. Didn’t matter what Dean threw at him - metaphorically speaking, concussions were less fun - his brother could always adapt to fit, even if there might be a minor sulk half way through. 

Saying that, it took a little longer before manipulating it became reasonable, the first few movements accompanied by a couple of small whines of complaint before they slowly fizzled out as Sam’s body grew more accepting. And more than just his body, too. Wasn’t long before Sam was pushing back against the toy in his usual silent request for harder and faster, which was both adorable and annoyingly impatient of him. 

Still, it was fun. Dean calmly continued his play, entertained by the way that Sam both welcomed and complained about the insertion. He didn’t go too fast, of course. Slow, steady and _deep_ were Dean’s main aims, and every so often he nudged against sensitive areas that sent another full body shiver through Sam. Over and over again, until the movements were fully welcomed and free sliding, and his brother was making a purring type of noise reminiscent of motorbikes. 

Oh yeah, the warm up box was ticked. And now, may the fourth be with them.

Slipping out the third toy again and putting it to one side, Dean eyed the last in the series thoughtfully. To play or not to play? That was the decision. He’d never been too sure about that particular toy, and probably wouldn’t have bought it if it hadn’t come as part of the set. It was large, uncomfortably so, and had the sturdiness that suggested it could probably be used as a melee weapon in particularly odd violent circumstances. 

It was also bright purple with what appeared to be an alien theme, nodules and wavy bits and potential tentacles, but Dean was prepared to ignore that as it just asked too many questions.

Tricky. Still, there was more than one person in this room who could make a decision. Dean picked up the toy, rotating it in his hands as he idly walked to Sam’s head and perched down on a chair nearby that gave Sam a good view of what he was doing as he played with it in his hands. One glance at Sam gave him a whole novel’s worth of information, Sam’s expression frozen and back to the bunny in headlights before Sam met his gaze nervously.

Well, that was pretty clear. Who knew Sam was that nervous of fake tentacle shaped things.

For a short while there was silence, Dean turning the toy over and over and Sam watching him almost without blinking, as though closing his eyes even for a minute might admit defeat. Dean knew Sam could take it, hell, Sam had taken Dean’s whole hand in the past like some human glove puppet. However, that had taken a lot of time and a lot of lube, and those sessions really needed Sam to be in the right headspace for it.

Another look at the wide eyed man tied up on the bench in front of him and Dean was pretty sure his sub wasn’t really feeling it right now. Pity to a certain extent, but they could always reschedule. Still, Sam didn’t need to know he’d already chalked it up as a ‘no’. Teasing was so much fun.

“So,” he drawled. “Two options. One, we use this bad boy and see how you do.”

Sam looked even more worried, a puppy concerned about the kick.

“Or two, I put it to one side for a rainy day and move onto step 3.” he noted the sag of relief in Sam’s body. “ _If_ ,” he added. “You behave yourself.”

Sam’s eyes suggested that behaviour was going to be impeccable from this point on. Not that Sam’s behaviour wasn’t normally pretty damned good; his brother found their sex sessions pretty therapeutic, or at least had some psychological mumbo-jumbo benefit from things, so obedience had come pretty naturally to him once they’d got over the whole brothers bickering thing. Still, Sam’s eyes were making full contracts that behaviour was guaranteed. 

Okay, the tentacles would definitely have to make a reappearance at a later date, if nothing more than to freak him out. Perhaps it was a cat v cucumber thing.

Dean grinned at him, and carefully balanced the toy on a surface nearby so Sam could see it at all time, just in reminder. 

“Awesome.” he said. “Let’s do option two then.”

He gently slapped Sam warmly on the shoulder as though they were doing nothing more unusual than having a beer together, before strolling toward what had been affectionately dubbed the Weapons Rack and carefully selecting one of the thin canes resting against it. Dean twiddled it between his fingers as he strolled back again.

“Right. Let’s get going, shall we? You remember what you did wrong?”

There was a small hunch of Sam’s shoulders to suggest that he did. Dean waited for a moment and then sighed softly, pressing the firm line of the cane against Sam’s ass pointedly.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question there, Sammy.” he warned.

“For not following orders.” Sam finally spoke, his voice a little husky. Dean sucked in some air through his teeth in thought.

“Well, kinda right. Probably need a bit more detail there,”

“For saying too much at the wrong time,” Sam didn’t quite grit it out but it wasn’t an easy speech. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“And?” he prompted, a light painless swat against Sam’s ass mostly to encourage him on.

“And not listening to you.”

“Mm. Close enough.” Dean decided. This probably wasn’t the place for a genuine heart to heart unless he wanted to risk grudges. “So, we’re going to do-,” Shit, how many had he said? Six, probably. He normally went for six, unless he was really cross. “-six blows with the cane. After each one, I want you to thank me. We clear?”

Truth be told, he wasn’t fond of the whole ‘thank you’ thing. As far as he was concerned, Sam was as much a fighter as he was, and Winchesters just didn’t bow down to anyone regardless of who, what and when. But it gave him a good indication of when Sam had recovered enough for the next blow, especially as Sammy tended to go really quiet and pliant whenever he had reached his personal pain breaking point. 

“Yes, sir.” Sam was well trained, like a smart dog who had house broken itself. 

“Good boy,” Dean grinned, and tested the cane briefly before glancing at his target. Aim. Practise swing without hit. Aim again. And .. fire.

The first one was more a tester, getting used to the weight and the angle and allowing his muscles to remember the smooth swing, but he knew from experience that it didn't really help the pain. The cane cracked against the smoothness of Sam’s skin, his brother’s back arching in shock and a yelp sounding in the thankfully private area of the dungeon as the red line slowly blossomed over the golden skin. Dean waited patiently until Sam swallowed, and slowly settled down again.

“Thank you, sir,” the words were already shaky. Dean readjusted the intensity of the hit, concerned he might have fired off a little too hard already. A couple at shaky was fine. All six was probably going to mean that Sam would sit very awkwardly in the car for the next couple of jobs.

Second and third were similar. Crack. Arch of back, muscles tensing against the outrage and hands gripping, but Sam had managed to catch hold of his voice until the weak thanks at the end. The fourth, however, was getting into harder territory. Three thin and wicked lines marred Sam’s ass in a somewhat pretty abstract pattern, and Dean could almost feel them throbbing himself. The fourth lay at a diagonal from top of left thigh to top of right ass cheek, and Sam swore under his breath as he gripped hold of the wrist restraints tight and tried to pant his way through the pain.

“Good boy, Sammy. How many left?” Dean was using the discussion as another point where Sam could recover without losing face, and stepped forward to run his hand curiously over Sam’s trembling backside. Oh yeah, the heat from the lines was wickedly hot, like Lucifer himself had burned them there, and Dean made a soft moan as he traced over the marks with the soft palm of his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Sam managed to press out, and then, again. “Two more.”

“There we go. It’s like the adult version of Sesame Street,” Dean chuckled softly, still keeping a close eye on his baby brother for any silent signals that everything wasn’t okay. This session was brought to you by the number 6 and the letter B.

Satisfied that Sam was ready for the next, he fired off no. 5 and blinked as Sam yelled something almost unintelligible. 

“You want to do _what_ with my balls?” he asked in amusement.

Sam gasped for breath and slowly shook his head, apparently lost for words, just as he was definitely testing how strong the restraints were. Oh yeah, they’d gone past careful control and were into the instinctual reactions level, and Dean always did find that kinda interesting. This was the bit where the politeness and the social constructs and the white lies fell away, and sometimes it went into aggression and sometimes it went into pleading and the occasional tears. He never liked it when Sammy cried, tugged at his heart strings automatically, but he had to admit that tears seemingly gave Sam a release valve. To a certain extent, Dean kinda liked the comfort he could give afterward. It was certainly better than trying to soothe a silent, icy Sam who never talked about something that was clearly bothering him.

Last one. Dean ran the cane lovingly through his fingers again, before finding the best spot to aim for. 

“ _Fucking bastard **shit**_!” that was less muffled and definitely came from the heart, Sam’s body having jumped as though receiving an electric shock. Dean grinned, unbothered about the cursing. Hell, if he was in that position he’d be swearing so much that sailors would probably clutch their pearls in shock. And, more than that, they were finished with number six which of course meant they were onto the best part of the whole thing. If sex acts were pie, this would be apple, no question.

Resting the cane down again, Dean slowly began to strip off the remainder of his clothes as he studied the shuddering, trembling form of his brother. The lights shone on the sheen of sweat across Sam’s body, the gasping, raw breaths almost shaking him in its urgency. So pretty, and still so strong as well. Took a lot to take down Sam, and a few thrashings with a cane really wasn’t going to do it. Still, it was good to break down a few barriers.

Naked, hard, relaxed, Dean strolled back again and gently ran his hand over Sam’s back again. Beautiful. Standing between his brother’s spread legs, lined up so perfectly, Dean leaned across the heat of Sam’s back with his chest pressed against him and his mouth so close to his little brother’s ear.

“Now,” he murmured. “I seem to recall we’re at the ‘fucking you so hard you squeak’ point. Does that sound about right to you?”

Sam was still breathless, but he pushed upward a little with his body. The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched upwards in a grin. Oh, he was willing to guess that was a yes. Such a good boy.

Pushing himself back up and studying Sam in pleasure, Dean hesitated for a moment and realised there was something missing. There was a soft whine from Sam as the warmth of Dean’s body vanished, his brother glancing around nervously to check where he was. This was, after all, off script, but Dean hadn’t gone too far. Bringing back a large mirror, Dean strolled to the top end of the bench and carefully propped it up against a table in front of Sam.

“There. Better view.” he announced. And it did indeed. When he had moved back to position, Dean was pleased to note that he could now see Sam’s flushed face - or at least, whenever Sam lifted his head, still a bit of a mop of hair when he lowered it - and watch himself as he worked. Possibly narcissistic, but who cared, it was hot. He was his own porn, and that was probably environmentally friendly or some shit like that.

Ah, it didn’t matter. What mattered now was the activity itself.

Hands tightened on Sam’s hips as Dean lined up easily and slowly pressed into the hot warmth. Toy activities had made Sam looser, and it was no trouble at all to slide into him and fit him so snugly. Dean purred at the back of his throat, and glanced at the mirror where Sam had been watching him intently. A cocky smile aimed back at his flushed and sweaty brother, just as Dean drew back and thrust in hard again. Oh yeah, that was one of the main benefits of the toys; get Sam prepared and he could go to town on him without worrying whether he was going to tear.

And that’s what he did. He set off at a strong pace, Sam’s eyes closing and his mouth opening slightly at the onslaught, looking absolutely beautiful. Dean growled deeper as he worked, feeling Sam open even further to him as he put more and more effort into his thrusts. And this was definitely the type of workout he preferred, who the fuck wanted to jog round and round in circles when this was an option?! Dean could see the way Sam’s body accepted him, slowing down a minute to deliberately watch his hard cock plough into him. Yeah, they probably would make a fortune in porn.

Of course visuals weren’t the only benefit. Sam was moaning softly at each thrust, rocking with the impact and gripping harder with his hands to the little restraints. The collar flashed prettily around his neck, and Dean resisted the urge to grab hold of it and pull Sam’s head up, but man, that temptation was so damned loud in his ear. He added more power to his thrusts to distract himself, changing the moans to a little ‘uh!’ to accompany each movement. Beautiful.

He’d also lost track of time as he worked, although his aching muscles were keeping rough track. And those weren’t the only things that were screaming for attention. Dean growled softly, fighting down the building sensation that was growing steadily already. Sammy always did that to him, skipped straight to the explosion, and Dean forced himself to wait. Couldn’t come yet, not yet, and he growled fiercely and mostly at himself. 

Sammy was also getting there, though. His noises were turning into a longer whine of sensation, his eyes back to closed and thankfully his head thrown back in presumably comfort although it looked as though Sam was happily bearing his throat to whatever werewolf happened to be passing. Each thrust hit against already bruised skin, first the spanking then the canes, and the little hiss of sensation and pleasure-pain was music to Dean’s ears.

It was getting almost impossible to ignore his climax, though. Dean swore softly to himself, his hands clenched tight enough on Sam’s hips that his nails had begun to dig into the soft skin, but this only seemed to excite Sam more. Loved a bit of pain did Sammy, and that was probably for the best given their current positions. 

And jesus, if he carried on like this then he’d be finished in a few seconds. Stop.Think about something else, _anything else_. Nothing sexy. Laundry. Washing up. Old holey underwear, and not the religious type. Angry gibbons. _Anything._

Fuck, this was going to kill him.

Dean closed his eyes tighter and snarled again, hard and angry, and he felt Sam jerk in surprise in what was probably a fear it was aimed at him. Couldn’t care at this stage, and couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Dean continued, picking up speed he didn’t even know was possible and all but slamming into Sam so hard that the bench was beginning to shudder. Almost.. _Almost…_

One final thrust and he was over the line, Dean frozen for a moment before the wave hit and came with a cry he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to. Shuddering into his brother, Dean had to prop himself up a little to avoid simply falling as his core seemed to damned well melt inside him. Crazy, really. Strong, brave, could keep coming back regardless of what punishments the supernatural world could throw at them, and yet one orgasm and he was a puddle on the floor. It took effort to be dominant from a puddle position, that was certain.

Still, he gave it his best try. Breathless, hot and sweaty, Dean sucked in some additional air and slowly opened his eyes to meet Sam’s satisfied gaze in the mirror. A rueful grin at that; okay, perhaps Sam probably already knew what Dean’s current state of play was based on the smirk in his sub’s eyes, although thankfully Sam looked just as dishevelled as he did.

Slowly sliding out of Sam and earning himself a little soft moan as he did so, Dean gave his charge another little slap on the ass before moving to unfasten him. He wasn’t sure whether Sam had actually come yet, but the night was young; another half an hour and he was sure Sam would be up for playing again. 

“Don’t suppose you managed to learn your lesson?”

There was a soft noise, and Dean looked up at the mirror again. Sam offered him a little grin.

“I dunno. Might need a few refresher courses.”

Dean grinned back at him. Definitely another session in half an hour, then. And fuck, his back was going to kill him after all this.

END


End file.
